A few weeks ago, John and I spent a long Saturday morning pulling weeds and mulching our front garden. My sister offered to hang with Violet so we could get it done, and I think we were approximately 432 percent more efficient than we would’ve been had she been outside with us.

I listened to a podcast while John listened to his book. About an hour into the job, John went inside to grab us waters. Down the block, I saw a woman walking toward us on the opposite side of the street with an adorable, tiny JRT. He strutted at the end of his leash like he was King. I smiled as he puffed his chest to mark the mailbox on the corner.

John came outside, and I pointed the dog out to him. “He’s so tiny and cocky,” we laughed. She saw us looking, I think, and as she reached the midpoint of our yard, she yelled across the road, “What are you doing?”

I took out my headphones. “Pulling weeds,” I yelled back.

“I need to see what you’re doing,” she shouted as she dragged her little dog across the street and up our yard.

Thus began a 45-minute long, unceasing cascade of words. She asked us a million questions, but just as one of us would start to answer, she’d barrel into the next topic or talk over our response or simply provide her answer to what she’d asked us. After a handful of minutes, we both just sort of sat on the ground, looking up at her and nodding periodically as she kept going. John spent a good 10 minutes scratching her dog.

We learned about all the people who live in every nook and cranny up and down our block. We learned about all the troubles she’s had with the trees in her backyard. We learned all about the neighborhood HOA meetings and who does and doesn’t pay their dues.

And then Cooper barked.

From somewhere inside the house, he barked. Her dog perked up. She suggested we bring him outside, I suppose to meet her little dog.

“Cooper is a wonderful dog,” I said, “but he doesn’t like to meet other dogs on leash.”

We then learned about her friend who bought a German shepherd who was so dog aggressive that if it had been her dog she would’ve demanded her money back.

She paused. “Is your dog a rescue?” she asked in that pitying tone often used to explain away bad behavior.

“Yes, but that doesn’t have anything to do with his issues. He’s fearful and reactive,” I said.

Before I could say anything else, she jumped in. “He probably just needs to meet more dogs.”

I took a deep, steadying breath. “Well, he actually loves playing with other dogs at our house and at doggy daycare. He just can’t meet them on leash, especially out in front of our house like this. He’d go crazy.”

She looked me in the eye and asked, “Have you ever considered training him?”

OMG! NO! That never occurred to me! Train my dog?!? Are you SERIOUS?!

Kidding aside, clearly this woman doesn’t know us from a stranger in line at the coffee shop, so how could she possibly know how much time, energy, effort, expense, etc. etc. we’ve poured into this beloved dog of ours? She couldn’t, of course.

She knew superficial stuff about all the people up and down the street (“she’s a single mom and goes to school,” “she used to babysit kids in this neighborhood as a kid herself,” “he switched cable providers three times last year alone,” and so on) but she doesn’t really, truly know who they are or what their struggles are.

Just like she doesn’t know us and has no clue all we’ve done for Coops.

My point isn’t to be indignant–this isn’t a how dare she?!?!–but rather, it served as a solid reminder that you just never know. You never know someone’s whole story. You never know someone’s struggles.

You never know.

So, since you don’t know and I don’t know and she doesn’t know… why not make an effort to assume the best about someone instead of the worst? Or offer support instead–a simple “Can I help?” doesn’t hurt.

When it comes to our dogs, we do our best. We do what we think is our best, anyway. We try our hardest. No, sometimes our best and our hardest isn’t good enough, but ultimately it’s all any of us can do.

I didn’t feel indignant about her question, but I did feel indignant on behalf of Coopsie.

He. tries. his. best.

Every single day, even when it’s really, really hard for him, he tries. Sometimes he fails. Oftentimes, actually. I fail, too. It’s more important that we work hard and we work together.

My lesson in that conversation came down to this: When you make an assumption about someone, you have two choices. You can assume the best or you can assume the worst. Neither takes more or less time or energy than the other, so why not assume the best? It’s the kinder route for both parties, I think.

I’ll defend Cooper every day of the week, but who knows… that woman who lives down the block and around the corner, well, I’m going to assume that she really, truly cares about the people and pets on her street. It’s easy to assume she’s just another suburban Gladys Kravitz, but you don’t snoop unless you care, right?

I read a lot of dog training forums and belong to a bunch of training Facebook groups. Generally, they’re full of amazing, helpful people who love dogs and who love helping dogs live better lives. Occasionally–as with anything on the internet–the conversations devolve into bickering or negativity, but dog people are usually pretty cool with one another.

Recently, a pet-and-child parent posted a question: What’s a good cue I can teach my dog to stop licking my kid’s sticky, disgusting face? I rephrased it a bit for brevity, but the gist is that kids are yucky and dogs love licking yucky things. How can we work with the dog on this?

There were dozens of replies by the time I saw the post, and the first thing I realized while scrolling was… no one helped her. Not one person. Instead? They all judged her.

Your dog should never be close enough to your child for a face lick.

You need to manage your dog better.

Small children can’t learn how to behave, so you’re putting your dog in harm’s way.

They need to be separated.

Deep breath. OK. I have a lot to say about this and a ton of resources to share, so stick with me because I hope this post can be helpful to any parent who’s struggling to figure out how to let their children and dogs interact and grow together–safely.

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TL; DR Version

We’ll get into detail, and I’ll share our first-hand experience, but in case you’re in a hurry:

Know and respect your dog’s personality. If you know he hates, say, loud noises, honor that by providing a safe space when your little one is crying.

Use common sense. It should go without saying, but as the adult, you need to use your head. Don’t let your toddler waddle around holding a peanut butter sandwich and expect your dog not to snatch it… along with your kiddo’s pudgy fingers.

Also, do note I’m focusing on little ones, like under three or four. There’s a whole lot more to be said about big kids, a lot of which I covered in this dog bite prevention post.

Set Your Dog Up for Success Around Kids

You need to keep your dog from landing in a spot where he or she feels compelled to bite. End of story. Whatever that is varies by dog. Some dogs can stay super chill and laid back around groups of kids. My mom’s dog, Otto, is like that. Emmett was like that. However, in both cases, they’d happily snatch food from an unsuspecting child–nailing a finger accidentally in the process–so they needed to be separated from those situations.

But what about the rest of the dogs, the majority of pups who have firmer lines drawn? You need to put their safety above their momentary happiness.

I’ll use my lovey as an example: Cooper hates unpredictability in all things. Kids live on unpredictability. Flailing, screeching, dive-bombing, running, tripping… all these typical child behaviors send him into a fit. So, when we have kids around who we know behave like that, Coop hangs out in my office for the visit. No, he’s not happy, but he’s much happier than he would be among loud, boisterous kids, AND he’s safe. There won’t be any incidents that force him into an uncomfortable situation.

And, to be totally honest, most kiddos who behave like that around him are kids who don’t have a dog at home or whose parents aren’t super dog savvy. It’s my job to keep him and our guests safe, and safety trumps happiness.

Same thing when we’re out walking: If a kid wants to pet him, I simply tell them no. Sure, we get some weird looks, but I don’t care. His safety–and the kid’s–is more important.

Watch your dog. If your dog shows any sign of stress around a kiddo, and that kiddo isn’t able to regulate his or her behavior, then remove your dog. Baby gates work great. For littles, stick ’em in a playpen. Use another room if necessary.

If kids are going to be around at all, whether it’s the new baby you just brought home from the hospital or your nieces and nephews in town for a long weekend, figure out what will keep your dog safe and do that.

Teach Your Kid How to Behave Around Dogs

This one got me a little fired up: Small children can’t learn how to behave, so you’re putting your dog in harm’s way.

Um. Yeah.

Nope.

Small children most certainly can learn how to behave. As early as eight months old, they develop an understanding of cause and effect–if I do this, then this happens–and empathy starts to kick in around 18 months.

Perhaps more importantly for this discussion, babies learn social cues–like how to behave around a dog–from what they observe. If you model safe, caring behavior with your pets, your kids will learn that. If you raise your voice to yell at your dog or drag your dog by the collar, your kid will think that’s OK.

The second a baby can reach out for your pup, it’s time to start teaching what is and is not OK. For instance, if she reaches out to grab a handful of fur, stop her hand and explain why that’s not acceptable. No, she won’t fully understand what you’re saying, but she’ll start acquiring information on how to behave around dogs.

According to one of the dog trainers in that thread, she alleged that children can’t cognitively understand that they can hurt a dog until they’re four.

All the cognitive science clearly shows otherwise, and we’ve seen it first-hand with Violet.

She’s two, and she’s a keen observer of human emotion.

“Mama, you frustrated?” “Aunt Lizzy, you sad?” “I. SO. ANGWY.”

She understands fully when a friend on the playground gets hurt–whether accidentally or by her hand–and will identify the upset and try to figure out how to help her friend feel better. Same with the animals here. I stepped on Ripley’s toe when I was feeding her dinner the other night, and she yowled.

Should you separate your dog and your baby?

This was the big topic under discussion in the thread I mentioned. The gist was that most people felt that dogs should never be close enough to lick a small child’s face to begin with, they should always be separated, and she was an irresponsible mother for allowing this to happen in the first place.

If you know your dog and set your dog up for success, and if you start teaching your child how to behave around dogs from the earliest age, you’re off to a great start. That said, there is a LOT of nuance to the “separate them” argument worth addressing.

For one thing, obviously, never leave your baby alone with another animal if you’re not right there. That is plain-and-simple common sense.

For another, don’t let your kid wander around with food in the same space as your dog. Also common sense.

Never have your kid sit on your dog (I mean, come on, people) or pull up on your dog or ride your dog like a pony or any other numskull behaviors you’ve likely seen on social media.

I mean, duh. Right?

OK, so all those common sense caveats aside: Should you separate your dog and your baby?

Well. It depends.

For one thing, with a highly sensitive dog like Cooper, if I’d kept him totally separate from Violet for four years, he would’ve leaped to some conclusions: OK, Lady won’t let me near the little pink monkey, so that little pink monkey must be dangerous, AND she’s keeping Lady away from me, so I hates it.

And it’s more than simply getting them used to each other’s presence. Cooper needed to learn not to lick her. Violet needed to learn not to pull up on him. I hoped they’d grow up to be good friends by learning how to be calm and respectful around each other. I know Coop inside out and always err on the side of safety, and I’ve trained Violet since the beginning how to be respectful of other animals. Is she perfect? Of course not. She’s two.

{{Funny enough, as an aside: She’s two. She throws tantrums. When one is brewing, both cats and Coop seem to have identified triggers even faster than I do and skedaddle to wait out the storm–lucky ducks–even before she starts screaming.}}

They like to be together. They like to play together. In fact, they prefer to be together–and with me–at almost all times, so it’s out of necessity that I teach them both how to behave around each other.

Life happens. You all live together in the same house. There’s no way I could keep them on separate sides of gates or playpens until she turned four years old, and setting parents up to think that’s the case… it’s simply unreasonable.

Dogs and babies CAN be great friends!

Use your head. Take appropriate steps you need to keep everyone safe. Invest in some food puzzles for those times when you do need to separate your dog. (We use a regular Kong, a Squirrel Dude, a Tux, and puzzle feeders, but holy moly I think we need this epic snuffle mat.)

Ultimately, find ways for them to interact in a safe, positive way together because there is no greater joy than watching your baby and dog grow up together!

Unless you don’t spend any time on the internet (which clearly isn’t the case since you’re, you know, here), you’ve probably seen a ton about CBD oil and its myriad miracles. CBD is popping up in supplements, food, and even as a $2 upgrade to your coffee order at a shop here in town. And, as these things do, once an ingredient takes off in human health, it trickles down into pet health and starts cropping up all over the place. That’s definitely what’s happened with CBD oil. I started to wonder: Is it worth the hype?

So, as I do, I dug into the research.

Here’s where I disclaim a few things: I’m not a vet. I’m not a nutritionist. I’m not a doctor or nurse or vet tech or dietitian. I’m a journalist. This is for information purposes only. It’s my opinion based off the research I found and some anecdotal evidence from my life and my dog. Also, at the tail end of this post, I share my recommendation for a CBD oil for dogs that we tried and have kept Cooper on. More on that below, but they did compensate me for sharing information about their brand.

First, what is CBD oil?

I’m starting here because this is the biggest source of confusion when it comes to CBD products. There’s a misconception that CBD = marijuana. CBD (cannabidiol) is one extract from the cannabis plant; THC (tetrahydrocannabinol) is another and the one that has the psychoactive properties.

In other words, CBD doesn’t make you “high.” THC does. And CBD oil doesn’t contain THC. That’s also why CBD products are legal. Because they don’t contain THC, they’re not regulated by the FDA. (Here’s how Live Science breaks it down.)

In human health, CBD products gained traction several years ago. CBD supposedly helps with everything from arthritis to schizophrenia to chemo side effects to anxiety to epilepsy to insomnia to even acne. The important thing to note is that there aren’t a ton of peer reviewed studies, but they’re coming. Just check out how many studies on CBD and epilepsy have been published since 2014.

So, CBD won’t get you high but it might help alleviate or lessen a whole lot of symptoms of a whole lot of conditions. Having read through a few dozen articles and abstracts, I think the science is coming, y’all. It seems legit and a whole new tool for taking care of our well-being. For now, though, keep in mind that most of what’s shared about CBD and its effects is anecdotal.

How is CBD oil used for dogs?

Now that we’re clear on what CBD oil is, the next question is how CBD oil is used for dogs. (I touch briefly on cats toward the end of the post. For today, let’s center on our pups.)

As in human health, there aren’t many published studies–yet. You can locate papers comparing how dogs, people, and rats metabolize cannabidiol; a few papers on pharmacokinetics–or, how it moves through the dog’s body; and one solid study on cannabidiol and osteoarthritic dogs. That last study is fascinating because it shows a decrease in pain, an increase in activity, and–the best part–no side effects for the pups. Check it out here.

I spoke with my vet, too, about CBD oil and he said two things: First, until the science is there, he doesn’t feel comfortable recommending it to patients. Second, he said that Cornell was doing great work in that area. Interestingly, that was the arthritis paper I mentioned above, but they also report on future studies and expansions:

The results seem to support anecdotal reports of CBD oil’s benefits. Veterinary assessment showed that CBD oil reduced pain (p < 0.03), and the Canine Brief Pain Inventory and Hudson activity scores showed clinically significant reduction in pain and an increase in activity with CBD treatment (p < 0.001), the abstract reports.According to Dr. Wakshlag, in addition to this study, his team is completing a pharmacokinetic and safety study in cats, and there are plans for additional studies on the efficacy of CBD oil in acute pain management, behavior management, feline pain and concurrent usage with chemotherapy in oncology patients—so stay tuned.

OK, so with all that said, let’s circle back around to the question: How is CBD oil used for dogs?

Well, many of the same human health applications translate. For instance, the arthritis study. Also, many anecdotal articles and stories cite anti-anxiety (more on that in a minute) and anti-inflammatory applications, plus lessening the effects of other medical conditions / treatments. Lots of possibilities, so as that article concluded–stay tuned.

Is CBD oil safe for dogs?

You shouldn’t give your dog any medications or supplements without first consulting your vet, but know your vet might give you an answer like mine did. And that’s fair. You’ll likely be deciding this one for yourself. For us, I felt confident after doing all this research that it was worth a shot for Coop. I wanted to see if it mitigated any of his anxiety and daily stress. I figured I’d read enough to give a few products a whirl and see what happened.

However. I came to that decision on my own after a ton of research. Ultimately, I think this Dogtime article sums it up perfectly:

“CBD oil is safe for most dogs in the right doses and with the right products.”

Is CBD oil effective for dogs?

OK. Let’s dig into this one pretty thoroughly. Some of this might sound redundant–because it is to an extent–but it’s important.

Whenever you see an efficacy claim on a product, it’s because there’s been a lot of testing done, and those claims are watched (or regulated depending on the industry, like in the case of medication) by all sorts of consumer affairs and advocacy groups. There’s nothing like that done for dogs and CBD oil. There’s just anecdotal evidence and lotsa marketing.

There are also a ton of different CBD products for dogs, including baked or chewy treats, topical creams, oil, and so on. The efficacy of each varies.

I will say, we tried one of the most popular baked CBD treats with Coop, and it did nothing. I actually doubted the hype after that experience. Then, at Global Pet Expo 2018, I received a press sample of a transdermal cream, which you rub on the inside of your dog’s ear. It knocked him out. Completely zonked. In case of an emergency, I guess that would be OK, but I wanted something in between the treats (i.e. no effect) and the transdermal (i.e. zombie). I just wanted to take his edge off a smidge but leave him HIM!

After a few more rounds of trial and error, we ended up with an oil that works perfectly. More on that in a minute, but as for the effectiveness question, the idea I want to instill is this: You need to find what works for your dog. That means the right product in the right amount.

OK, so, what about CBD oil for cats?

The Cornell study mentioned above hasn’t come out yet. That said, many of the same uses for dogs are recommended for cats anecdotally, but careful dosing is critical. I haven’t researched the cats question (I can if anyone’s curious… let me know in the comments if you want me to dig into this) mostly because my girls aren’t facing anything where I thought it would be helpful or worthwhile. Here’s a PetMD article that addresses the basics.

With that in mind, it’s worth noting that the oil we chose for Coop is designated for dogs and cats, so if I wanted to just try them out on it to see what happened, I’d feel perfectly safe (at a super-duper small dose).

My bottom line is this:

You know your dog. You know his typical behavior and you know when he’s “off.” If you’ve been thinking about trying a CBD oil with your dog, my experience has been that the treats just don’t do it but the actual oil strikes the right balance. Even if your vet can’t or won’t comment, it’s worth running it by him or her first just to be extra careful that there won’t be conflicts with any medications your pet currently takes. In all things health, always, always talk it over with your vet before you take action.

We’re sticking with the oil we’ve been using–in fact, this reminds me I need to reorder!–and plan to for as long as we see a positive effect in Coop.

The oil we use (plus a discount to try it):

As I mentioned, we tried a few versions of CBD for Coop before settling on one.

We’re using a tincture that we add to his food. It took us several days to find the right dose. For Coop, it’s much lower than the recommendation for his weight.

After a couple days, though, both John and I noticed separately that he reacted and barked way less than usual. Plus, he seemed to settle easier, and on the Fourth he kept his head about him the whole night. That day, we actually divided his dose between his breakfast and his dinner and added a smidge extra to each serving, just to cover the spread and get him through the fireworks. And it did. He slept!

We’ve been super happy with the experience and don’t have any plans to change or take him off it anytime soon!

The brand we’re using is called Veritas Farms. He’s on the Full Spectrum Pet Tincture in the tuna flavor (Coop can’t have pork, but there is a bacon flavor if your dog’s not into fish). The bottle is small, but it lasts. For Coop, I started him on his current bottle on Monday, June 3. Today’s Friday, July 19, and we’re almost out. A solid month and a half, so a little under $1 a day. Worth it for a calm, happy pupper!

The website has a TON of useful info, like the FAQ page and the How We Grow page, which explains their commitment to sustainability–you know I love that!

BUT! If you’ve read this far, well, first of all THANKS! 🙂 Also, if you got here and are now super curious, I highly recommend the Pet Tincture, and Veritas Farms was kind enough to give me a discount code to share (and, btw, it works for anything on their site, not just the pet product, if you’ve been wanting to try some CBD products for yourself).

Here’s how to get a discount: You can either go to the Veritas Farms main page and poke around the shop OR go straight to the pet tincture. Add whatever you want to purchase to your cart, then use code Maggie15 at checkout to get your discount!

WHEW! There you have it.

If you still have questions, please leave ’em in the comments. If I don’t know the answer, I’ll certainly track it down! I’m also curious if any of YOU have tried CBD oil for your pups (or for yourself) and what your experience has been. Please share so we can all learn from one another! Thanks for sticking with me on this–such an important topic!

I spend an inordinate amount of time gazing at my animals and wondering things about them.

Like: When they dream, and their feet and tails and ears twitch, what’s running through those little minds of theirs?

And: When he digs through his toy basket searching for just the right one, does he go into it with a specific toy in mind? Or is he assessing his options before deciding?

Also: When Coop perches on the highest spot in our yard and gazes out, does he think he’s surveying his kingdom? keeping watch? guarding the family? or maybe just chilling in the nice weather?

And, perhaps most importantly: Is my dog happy?

I want him to be happy. I want the cats to be happy. Of course, anyone who lives with an animal knows there are moments when you can see pure joy on your pet’s face. There are also moments when you see the opposite. But, in general, from day to day, I wonder: Is my dog happy?

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First Things First: The 5 Freedoms

Have you heard of “The Five Freedoms” in animal welfare? These are the international standards of animal care established in the UK in the 1960s. They are:

Though–in the U.S. at least–those have been subjected to wide and varied interpretation, the idea is that an animal kept by a human must be free from suffering.

Meeting that basic criteria, while vital to any pet’s well-being, won’t necessarily make an animal happy. Having those needs met is so important, and I’m assuming in this post that’s the foundation we’re all coming from. The five freedoms provide a pet with a lot: Comfort, yes. Safety, yes. Security, yes.

But what about happiness?

What makes a dog happy?

Cooper loves to chase a squeaky ball.

Like, loves.

If you squeak a ball anywhere in his hearing range, he runs at full speed, skids to a stop in front of you, and plops into a sit–mouth hanging open, tail swishing the floor. His muscles clench. He’s so ready. When you pull your arm back to throw, he tenses his whole body. Let the ball go and he’s off like a rocket. He chases it down, turns, and sprints back to drop the ball at your feet and wait–open mouth, tense body, swishing tail–for you to throw it again.

I can say, without doubt, that chasing a squeaky ball makes Cooper happy.

He doesn’t feel the same about chasing all toys or even all balls, for that matter. Toss a plain old yellow tennis ball, and he can take it or leave it. Throw a stuffed toy and he’ll chase it down, but then lay in the grass and rip it to shreds instead of bringing it back for another chase. (Ripping stuffies to shreds: another thing that makes Cooper happy.)

But chasing a squeaky ball doesn’t make all dogs happy.

If you threw a ball for Emmett at the height of his youth, for instance, he’d look up at you with eyes that said, “I don’t know why you did that because now you have to go get it.”

However, meeting new people, getting tons of attention, eating snacks… those things made Emmett happy.

When I come home–whether I’ve been gone five minutes or five days–I know Cooper is happy. He wags hard enough to thwack me hard enough to create a welt. He cries. He paws at me. He jumps on me. He licks my face. He curls his body into a C-shape and presses up against me while I hug and pat him.

When I get an ice cream out of the freezer, he does many of the same behaviors–wagging tail, whining, jumping up and down–though thankfully to a lesser degree… otherwise it might hurt my feelings! ha!

Same thing when he’s running. He’s relaxed and focused, enjoying the physical exertions.

I know lots and lots of things that make Cooper happy.

But when I think about people, I know there are lots and lots of things that can make even unhappy people happy, at least momentarily.

So, is my dog happy?

Assuming all your dogs’ basic needs are met and he’s not unwell, how can you tell if your dog is happy?

I’ll list a handful of signs your dog’s happy below, but here’s the thing: Most dogs, I believe, aren’t necessarily unhappy. If they’re not happy, they’re probably bored or scared. Boredom is more of a chronic condition, while fear is more acute.

This is a basic list, but here are five ways to tell if your dog is happy:

A loose body: This includes soft ears, soft eyes, and probably lots of wiggles.

A wagging tail: In fact, in the happiest moments, the tail can seem to wag your dog’s whole body! (Opposites to watch for: stiff or tucked tail.)

Good behavior: Dogs who suffer from boredom might find their own fun by, say, shredding the curtains or snacking on your shoes. (Note: This is different from separation anxiety, which is also an unhappy condition that needs a vet consultation.) Happy dogs exhibit fun, playful behavior, and engage with their people and other animal friends.

A healthy routine: Your dog sleeps and eats and bathrooms normally. He gets a good amount of physical and mental stimulation each day!

Physical contact: Your happy dog will find ways to touch you. Even dogs who don’t love cuddles as much will poke you with their nose, lead into your legs, touch your hand, and so on. A happy dog will seek out a bit of this contact to the degree that makes them happiest. (On the other hand, dogs who get excessive, unwarranted, or unliked contact–think clumsy hugs from toddlers–can be decidedly unhappy!)

I think about Cooper’s happiness often. I learned a ton about his actual mental state when I read What It’s Like to Be a Dog And Other Adventures in Animal Nueroscience, and it inspired me to think more about how to enrich his environment (i.e. our backyard for the upcoming summer) and to provide him with more thinking activities. I HIGHLY recommend that book to anyone who loves dogs. Or seals. Or marsupials.

And I throw his squeaky ball for him. A lot. Sometimes until my arm can’t lift the ball anymore! But it’s worth it to see his happy grin and loose, wagging body! For me, it’s super rewarding to see him relaxed and having fun–maybe because he is such a stress case?–but it makes ME happy to make HIM happy. Win-win!

And, at night, when I settle in bed with my book to unwind after the usually-long day, he climbs under the covers (yes, all the way) and rests his chin on my ankles… a solid, reliable pressure that marks the end of the day.

He’s the absolute best.

He’s also the absolute worst.

He barks at every noise, real or imagined. He lurches and lunges at the end of the leash when we spot a dog at the end of the block. He cowers in the corner, shaking like a leaf, whenever we go somewhere, anywhere. He keeps his head on a swivel at the park, his body tense, his tail tucked. When we spot a dog–or, depending on his mood, even just a kindly stranger–we step off the trail or off the sidewalk and dole out treats, or if for whatever reason we think/know the treats won’t work this time, we cross the street, U-turn, duck between houses, or sprint off in the opposite direction–whatever keeps him calm(er) and feeling safe(er).

It’s exhausting.

But it’s also rewarding beyond anything I could imagine. When he makes a good decision or when he looks at me for direction, my heart soars.

And then he goes ballistic at a passing bicycle and I plummet back down to earth. You guys should’ve seen the day a hot air balloon went overhead…

I’ve sustained back and shoulder injuries managing him on leash. And, yet, at the end of the day, when he places his chin on my ankle, all’s right with the world.

I only wish other people could understand this about him, this dichotomy of being the absolute best dog in the entire world and his fear. It makes me sad that people don’t know the real him, the sweet, patient, pupper to a toddler and my best friend. So, I thought I’d share some of my thoughts about loving a reactive dog.

5 things I wish you knew about my reactive dog:

We are always on high alert.

Which can get exhausting. Every time I read anything about time management or productivity or burnout or whatever, one piece of oft-repeated advice is this: Take your dog for a nice stroll to clear your head! And I laugh and I laugh and I laugh. Because here’s the thing: When you have a reactive dog, there is literally no such thing as a nice stroll. Unless you go in the pouring rain. Or at midnight. You are constantly surveying your surroundings, watching for people or dogs or bikes or whatever triggers your dog has. You are constantly rerouting when you spot one of those on the horizon. Even when you’re in flow–you’re walking in a quiet spot without any other foot traffic–there’s always in the back of your mind the possibility of something happening, so you remain vigilant. Which brings me to…

Your “friendly” off-leash dog is our worst nightmare.

Responsibility is a two-way street. End of story. Those of us with reactive dogs choose to take our dogs to parks and trails that require leashes. We pick places carefully, places without too many blind corners or places with a clear escape route. Why? An approaching off-leash dog truly is our worst nightmare, especially if the dog’s owner is waaayyyyyy off in the distance. You yelling, “He’s friendly!” from a mile away is literally the. worst. Put your dog on leash or go somewhere that allows off-leash dogs.

We’re doing our best.

Your judgement doesn’t help. It’s like the parent with the trantruming toddler in the supermarket… We don’t want to be dealing with this either, Sir. Your glares don’t help the situation. Really, though, with a reactive dog, we are all doing our best. Sometimes our best isn’t good enough. Sometimes all the training and management and planning just falls apart. Your dog is having a bad day. You encounter a scenario way scarier than your dog can handle. Or, you’ve just passed too many dogs/bikes/strollers/strangers for your dog to be able to withstand one more and that’s when he loses it. I can assure you, a smidge of compassion goes a long way here. A smile or a nod. Moving your dog/bike/stroller/yourself away. Whatever. Compassion over judgement, always.

Yes, he’s “trained.”

Speaking of compassion over judgement… it’s likely your suggestion of, “You need a dog trainer,” will fall on deaf ears. Why? Reactive dogs are generally far more trained than “typical” dogs. We take every class under the sun. Cooper probably knows more than most dogs, and he’s certainly spent more hours in training than the usual basic-obedience-for-puppies class that most owners take. He’s taken two obedience classes, agility classes, 1:1 agility, trick training, and two reactive dog classes, plus many hours with a trainer we really liked doing 1:1 sessions. Our dearly departed Lucas took about 5x that number of classes–he was just a bigger liability than Coop, tbh–and was impeccably trained. Training can’t mitigate fear or a fear-based reaction. It can help. Big-time. With Lucas, especially, it took about five years, but he eventually was able to “watch me” to walk past a scary scenario. In a familiar park. When we had a clearly-defined escape route. And the other dog was on leash. But he could do it. Reactive dogs tend to be super-well-trained dogs because of those liability issues, but training won’t always solve fear.

We love our dogs, quirks and all.

Someone once told me, “I would never have two dogs I couldn’t walk together,” referring to Lucas and Cooper. It broke my heart. I couldn’t have ever imagined not having either one of them. Yes, it took tons of extra effort to do two walks per day (Emmett, of course, could always go with either one of them, and if if they were acting like crazed maniacs, he’s just be happily sniffing the ground in seach of errant chicken bones or sandwiches). I love Cooper to pieces. He’s my little baby. He’s my friend. He’s Violet’s bestie. He loves wholeheartedly. When people come over, he can’t get close enough, usually planting his 50 pounds securely in his friends’ laps. We reactive dog people love our dogs because we see them. We see them for who they really, despite and because of their unique struggles. We love our relationship, and we love the deep, heartfelt returns we get from working with a struggling dog.

It’s certainly not easy to love a reactive dog, but it’s so worthwhile and brings unparalleled levels of pride and joy as you get to watch them overcome life’s hurdles. I always think of the responsibility of having, loving,and working with a reactive dog when I hear the quote:

“Saving one dog will not change the world, but surely for that one dog, the world will change forever.” ? Karen Davison

It’s my goal with my reactive dog to change his world forever, for the better.

If you love a reactive dog, what do you wish people understood about you and your pup? What do you wish you could share about your reactive pup?